


Just the Beginning

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-09
Updated: 2006-10-09
Packaged: 2018-09-30 10:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10160963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Harry and Draco are both afraid of their feelings after having had a few one-night-stands with each other. And yet, this drive had become too strong a magnet— it was as if it was necessary.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Notes: Originally for the lj com ‘prompt-me-hd’ in which the prompt was 'beginnings,', but decided to archive it here.  
Disclaimers: I don’t own any boy toy at the moment. All these luscious playthings are the property of J.K. Rowling and the respective publishers and moviemakers.

+-+-+

“It’s over, Malfoy.”

Malfoy looked up from where Harry had entered the Room of Requirement. He gave out a lazy smirk and leaned back onto the bed, his book on Runes already forgotten. 

“Over, Potter? I don’t think we agreed on anything being over.”

“It’s not some sort of agreement you’d ever take, if it gives you some arse.” Harry snapped back. 

Malfoy’s eyes flickered, but his lazy grin only grew more wicked, “A valid point.”

Harry sighed, his inconfidence seeming to waver where he stood, but he forced himself to close his eyes. When he reopened them, he had adopted a resolute air.

It took five stern steps to stand before the blonde by the bed. “I told you I don’t want this anymore, Mal— Draco. It was fun while it lasted, but like you said. It was just a fuck. So stop sending me owls. My friends are getting suspicious. After tonight, I’m not coming back.”

Something about what Harry said snapped Malfoy; the blonde shot up and grabbed Harry’s wrist, drawing the boy towards him with reckoning force. “I told you we haven’t agreed on it!”

Harry, shocked at the intensity of Malfoy’s emotions, was only able to take a step back before the Slytherin had pressed himself upon him with a smoldering kiss. It was perfect, in a terrible, heart-wrenching way— how they could fit together so perfectly. Harry moaned against him. 

Harry, of course, had the urge to give in— to accept the blonde willingly, like in all his fantasies. But he crushed that thought into the deep secret part of him. What Malfoy said the other night wounded him terribly— he didn’t want to be _just a fuck_ — and yet that was exactly how Malfoy thought of him.

He struggled back, but to no avail. Malfoy was taller than him, gripping his wrist and shoulder with a clamping force, pressing deeply, as if deprived of him for too long. 

The kiss was fierce, deep and soulful, but also had a point— Draco was dominating him. Yet, though knowing this, Harry still felt a coiling surge of pleasure around him. 

How could he hope not to miss this? Already had he begun to melt under it, surrendering again into the beautiful world of simple ache and need. But he knew this had to stop. He had to stop before he could fall any deeper into the trap, and be left with a broken heart.

With an ample amount of self-restraint, Harry pulled back. “I’m not going to be your toy, damnit!”

“Then stop being _such_ a toy, you git! You say you don’t want this, but I feel you respond to me!” Malfoy held a note of desperation as he gripped Harry tighter, pressing his hardness onto the other boy’s pelvis. 

“I can feel this, Potter,” He hissed, scathing, as he ground himself upon the other boy’s responding heat— the responding hardness. He gave a dark, knowing sneer, “You can’t take yourself away from me.”

The blonde’s breath ghosted along the gentle curve of his ear, and Harry inwardly shivered. He tried to pull back, but Malfoy wasted no time in pushing him onto the cushions, soft lips leaving insistent marks on his flesh as he began to bite along Harry’s neck. 

And how could he resist, Harry wondered? How could he not arch against soft fingers trailing down his torso, how could he possibly resist the passionate way— no, the searing, black, possessive way Malfoy was now looking at him? In his heart he knew that this was where he belonged, with Malfoy pinning him down… 

Draco smirked against the smooth tan skin beneath him. Potter was always like this— melting beneath his fingers just so, beating warm flesh and breathless gasps always surrendering. And Draco wanted it this way, he needed Potter, in a way that he’d never admit— more than just to own, more than just to keep. 

Their clothes were now but a pile at the foot of the bed. Draco covered Potter’s body with his own, melding lust and anger together. For a moment, they were both overwhelmed by how far they had gone— as if they had no recollection of how they got there. 

But Draco wasn’t one to ponder; he busied himself, kissing, stroking, kneading, —and it was heaven to finally feel Potter’s tightness enveloping him, welcoming him once more as they joined as one. 

Silly Potter, really, thinking to end things when it had just begun. 

Draco flexed his hips, causing the boy beneath him to shudder. 

“Do you think you can get away from me so easily, Potter?” Draco hissed seductively, blowing light, tantalizing kisses onto the boy’s collarbone. “Don’t you know toys like you have nowhere else to run?”

“Speak for yourself, Malfoy,” Was Harry’s harsh reply, arching upwards as Malfoy began to drive. But Harry knew the blonde’s argument spoke the truth. He knew there was no place to hide. Even in his dreams, the Slytherin had managed to plague him and to hurt him. Harry wanted none of the pain, and yet… and yet he couldn’t help but accept it, if it meant keeping the blonde close.

He had become Malfoy’s toy after all...

Draco noted the tears in those green eyes, and that the Gryffindor opted to shut them close as if to hide the embarrassment. Draco’s heart twisted at the sight, wanting more from the boy, --oh how it had become so necessary. It was as if Harry had become the breath to his being, and Draco could no longer imagine a night without him. 

It was this moment, then, that both boys realized this insistent need. How ironic, that it was fate that toyed with them, giving them each what they hungered for so long, —love, and letting it come from the bitterest of schoolyard enemies. And they both dreaded it as they began to feel the twinge of affection, and yet they couldn’t turn it away. 

It was so funny that this game, this passionate meeting that had started but a week ago, was no longer just a tryst. They couldn’t end it when they needed it so. Perhaps they had even realized the complexities: how they would never let go, even to save face. There could be no end to it, for if there was… they would never even forgive themselves.

Draco was torn with the urge to brush away Potter’s tears. He’d caused them intentionally; he knew that his words were undoing his lover. But deep inside, he was just afraid— he was afraid to be the toy. He was afraid that Potter would leave him, when he himself hadn’t gotten enough— couldn’t get enough. Draco pushed in deeper, growing insistent with the rising passion.

“Potter, you’ll never leave me,” He ground out, as Potter’s arms came around his waist. The ravenhead moaned, and Draco felt belittled at the beauty of it, the beauty of Potter arching, flushed in the heat of pleasure. Potter would always come back, he told himself. He knew that the Gryffindor wouldn’t resist returning into what had become a habit in such a small amount of time. More importantly, Draco thought, _he had to come back_. 

“It’s not over, Potter,” Draco whispered, barely noticing the tears trailing down his own cheeks. “This is just the beginning.”

Their ecstasy, wrought out together, was still exquisite and exhilarating, —with a touch of misery, as always. The only true difference was that both knew there was certainly a tomorrow. 

“…Just the beginning,” Draco repeated softly, brushing strands from out of Potter’s eyes. Potter sighed, urging him closer, and Draco was arrested by the stunning green in those pupils that he allowed himself a tiny smile. His heart throbbed when it was returned. That sealed his fate, he realized. There was no such resisting of use against the Boy-Who-Lived. This clandestine one-night-stand had wholly become something more.

He kissed Harry’s forehead, a light touch on the famous scar, before fitting his head on the crook of Harry’s neck.

“Just the beginning,” Harry whispered back quietly, echoing the line, thinking along the same thoughts.

+-+-+

Post A/N: Thank you for reading, and I hope you can review… I would make a sequel if someone could give me a good idea. :D


End file.
